#whenever shawn uses something as a metaphor….yeah.

[markedbyindecision]

@otpsource’s Valentine’s Day Event

↳ Day 4: Shules + quotes

[kidinruin]

All You’d Ever Wanted // Bartender!Shawn

Summary: You and Shawn have liked each other for a while now, but you’re not sure going out with him is such a good idea. He’ll do anything to be able to take you out, even if it takes a few friendly arm wrestling matches to win you over.

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Some mild swearing

A/N: This was very loosely based off this ask. Of course I was also inspired by Shawn’s recent bartending stint in Budapest (rip me because I’m pretty sure that kid slayed me and brought me back to life three times over that night). I’ve never written a fic in my entire life, so I apologize if this is shit. Who am I kidding, it’s just 4.2K of pure garbage. Enjoy if you dare.

The noise is almost deafening when you entered the bar. You took a deep breath and grinned, taking in the familiar surroundings. You admired the gathering of bodies around the round chipped wooden tables, the white string lights that made you abandon all hope of having any sort of decent lighting, and of course, the curly-headed bartender that was too busy wiping down the bar to notice you had arrived. Those were the little things that made visiting this place feel like coming home.

You didn’t usually drink alone, but you had just finished a rather stressful work week and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to knock a few back before going home and passing out. Of course you knew that walking into a bar solo on a Friday night probably wasn’t the most brilliant life choice you’d ever made, but you’ve been frequenting this little dive bar ever since you were in college, and you knew the regulars quite well.

You returned the chorus of greetings that sounded as you made your way to the bar with a smile and a series of enthusiastic waves. The establishment’s friendly atmosphere is something that you’ll never get tired of, no matter where your life takes you.

You locked eyes with the bartender who had finally noticed your arrival as you waded through the maze of regulars. You went and parked yourself on your usual stool, unable to deny the thrill that ran through your body when you commanded his undivided attention. The confident smirk that had been living on his face as he watched you saunter up to the bar transitioned to that beautiful smile he always seemed to reserve for you. 

You wanted to kiss him, wanted to press your lips to his and replace that lovely expression with one of pure wonder and adoration. But he wasn’t yours, so you wouldn’t.

“So what’ll it be, Hot Shot?” you dramatically rolled your eyes at his question, any connection between the two of you instantly lost. Teasing you was one of his favorite pastimes, and on any other night you’d humor him, you really would. Unfortunately, your need to get drunk and relax tonight greatly outweighed your desire to indulge in mindless flirtations with the hot bartender that you’ve known for years.

“Shawn, I said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m hardly any more successful than anyone else here,” you explained, albeit a little condescendingly. You were an administrative assistant for a well-known production company, hence the paperwork mountain that’ll be greeting you bright and early Monday morning. You’d hardly call it glamorous.

He furrowed his brows at your tone, and you regretted speaking to him that way. You wanted to reach out and smooth the space between his eyebrows with your thumb, let him know that you didn’t mean to be an asshole and that you just really, really wanted to get hammered. You extinguished the thought almost as soon as it surfaced within your mind.

Before you could even begin to find the courage to apologize, Shawn started to speak, “I wouldn’t sell yourself short. I’ll bet there’s not one single person here who wouldn’t kill for a position like yours. Too bad they have no idea that you’re already the best person for the job.” Jesus, this guy was way too nice to you. Sure the two of you had known each other for years, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?” you questioned, knowing full well that Shawn would dismiss any of your attempts at an apology.

“I just do. Call it a sixth sense or whatever,” he replied with a sheepish grin and an animated wave of his hand. You were glad you hadn’t gravely offended his livelihood and all, but you could tell he wanted to say more, to compliment you even further when you knew you didn’t deserve it. He was always giving you that special attention, coupled with secret glances when he thought you weren’t looking. Truthfully, it was a nice change of pace from his blatant flirting. Then again, it wasn’t like you really minded any of the attention, covert or not.

You chuckled softly and shook your head as you ordered a simple rum and coke, brushing off Shawn’s attempts to get you to try something new for a change. You fell silent after you thanked him for the drink he had made for you. Eventually, he turned back to focus on cleaning the spill your arrival had pulled his concentration from in the first place. 

You sipped your coke and observed him as he worked. Trying to stay as nonchalant as possible, you absolutely reveled in the fact that it was now your turn to give Shawn your undivided attention.

You thought it was interesting how a guy like him had ended up settling in your Midwestern town. The two of you had gone to college together, and he was an international student hailing from Toronto. That fact alone had always made you wonder how in the world he ended up here. It wasn’t like the music education program he had graduated from was particularly groundbreaking or prestigious. Just wanted a change of pace, he always answered whenever you’d asked. You had trouble believing that a guy like Shawn was destined for nothing but small town life. Regardless, he chose to stay in this college town, and he absolutely loved his job teaching music at the high school. He really only landed the bartending gig last summer in order to make some extra money while school was out. Imagine your surprise as you strolled into the place with your friend about a year ago to find Shawn grinning at you from behind the bar. You swore it must’ve been the work of some higher power.

You thought it was funny how this bar lead the two of you back to each other. You had been such close friends during your time in school, used to hang out with the rest of your friend group at the table situated next to the window overlooking the river. That very same table where you realized that maybe you liked Shawn as more than just a friend. It was such a shame the real world didn’t really leave much time for reminiscing with old friends after you graduated.

You supposed the two of you could’ve dated at some point if you wanted to, but the timing was never right. You were always too busy, he already had a girlfriend of his own, and so on. To be honest, you didn’t even think he was all that into you until you guys reconnected last summer. The lingering touches and glances, the constant offers of free drinks, and the special smile that was reserved only for you were a recent development. Despite this fact, one thing was obvious. He was sweet on you and everyone knew it.

You watched Shawn flit around the bar and interact with his customers as you mused over the second rum and coke he had handed you minutes ago without a word. He was like a ray of light wherever he went, always checking up on people, always going out of his way to make sure the customers were satisfied. That was Shawn for you, always giving.

You watched as he suddenly stumbled over the bulky boots he always wore, making the people near him chuckle. You always told him they were impractical. Maybe he’d finally listen.

Shawn apologized to the lady whose chair he grabbed to avoid face planting with a shy smile.  He looked in your direction just in time to see you turn your entire body towards him. You snorted and raised your glass in a toast before downing its remaining contents. His cheeks were rosy with embarrassment as he walked towards you, careful not to trip over his feet again. Good, you thought, you liked that he was the one who was blushing for a change.

“I wasn’t expecting a drink and a show tonight, Mendes,” you teased, poking Shawn in his broad, muscular shoulder. You had gotten slightly tipsy and the liquid courage made you bolder than usual. You normally weren’t so tactile with Shawn, but you couldn’t help it when he was standing so close to you, all tall, dark, and handsome.

“I believe the expression is dinner and a show,” he countered, any lingering trace of embarrassment replaced by his usual cocky grin. Despite the façade of smugness, you noted the nervous twitch in the side of his mouth, the hesitance when you looked into his eyes. “I mean, I can give you that…dinner, I mean. If you want?” You were shocked by his words to say the least. Sure, Shawn constantly flirted with you. Sure, you were guilty of the same. But he had never acknowledged out loud that your relationship ran any deeper than mindless flirtation. It was jarring, really, but in a good way.

You stared into his kind eyes for what felt like an ungodly amount of time and pondered his question. You saw the hesitance that previously took up residence on his face morphing into relief. Relief that he had finally laid all his cards on the table, that he had set the scene, and the ball was now in your court.

No amount of cliché metaphors could have prepared you for when Shawn placed a tattooed hand against the bar behind you and leaned in close. You shivered when you felt his warm breath against your ear, couldn’t control the gasp that left your lips as his free hand made its way to your thigh and gripped it firmly, like it had a mind of its own. He spent a few moments gazing at the side of your head, willed you to look him in the eye, but you refused. The tension was thick between the two of you, and your eyes fluttered shut in a feeble attempt to relieve any inkling of it. You couldn’t let him touch you like this, couldn’t let him get too close. You wanted to get away. You couldn’t.

Relief of the tension that you so desperately desired came when his hand left your thigh. Unfortunately, the feeling was short-lived when Shawn gently grasped your chin and turned your head to face him, forcing you to return his intense gaze.

“You gotta know by now I’d do anything to see you smile, Hot Shot,” he whispered softly. Every instinct you possessed in your body told you to run. “What do you say? Have dinner with me?” His eyes fixated on your lips and you weren’t surprised by how badly you wanted him to kiss you in this moment. You would’ve let him, too, if you hadn’t finally come to your senses.

“Hmm, maybe another time,” you stammered quickly in a half-assed attempt to divert his attention for good. You swiveled around in your stool as fast as you could before you could observe his no doubt disappointed reaction.

You suddenly remembered you were sitting in a crowded bar, where any prying eyes could’ve witnessed the exchange between the two of you. You looked over your shoulder, careful to avoid catching Shawn’s gaze. When you decided that you weren’t the victim of any particularly dirty looks, you righted yourself on the stool once again.

One glance out of the corner of your eye told you that Shawn had already returned to his post behind the bar. He placed a third rum and coke down in front of you and you mumbled your thanks, evading any and all contact. You wished a hole would open up in the floor right about now and swallow you whole.

You knew you were being unreasonable. He obviously liked you. You liked him. If you were still in college, you’d be high off the adrenaline that came with finally setting up a date with the guy you wanted the most right about now. The fact of the matter was that you and Shawn had such a good thing going. You had gotten closer than ever since reconnecting, and you didn’t want to jeopardize that. Plus, you were so busy with work that you didn’t exactly have time for anything serious at the moment.

You knew deep down that you were just making excuses. You wished you had the courage to take that leap of faith. All you’d ever wanted was dangling right in front of you. You just needed to reach out and take it.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to make me guess what’s happening inside that pretty little head of yours?” he questioned, snapping you out of your self-deprecating thoughts. He was calm, cool, and collected, as if you hadn’t just rejected his advances in front of the entire bar. Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. Dammit why did he always get you to blush so easily?

You sincerely hoped you weren’t sporting a stupidly shocked expression on your face as you looked into his gorgeous hazel eyes for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. You pondered how this man could still care, even after you rejected him, looked him in the eyes and pretended like you haven’t wanted to be his since you were eighteen years old. In that moment, you decided to come clean and at least try to make things right. He deserved the truth.

You took a deep breath and began, “Look, Shawn, you know that I’ve liked you for a very, very long time. The thing is I’ve just been drowning at work lately.” Shawn frowned and you found yourself wanting to reach out and touch his forehead for the second time that night. You let go of any remaining inhibitions you might’ve had in that moment and did just that, once again forgetting about the very public setting the two of you were in. His eyes fluttered closed when you softly smoothed away the worry lines, and you willed him to show you that beautiful smile again. You didn’t like it when he was upset. “Every time I finish a task, it seems like three more show up in its place. It’s enough to make me feel like I’m drowning.”

You detested admitting your weakness, but Shawn always made you feel safe, like you could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge you for it. You absentmindedly slid your hand down to cup his cheek. The simple, intimate action caused his eyes to snap open and marvel at you in disbelief. You didn’t blame him for his confusion.

You suddenly felt uncomfortable and scrambled to look anywhere but into those damn eyes. Your gaze traveled past his face, down the strong biceps exposed by the black tank top he wore, until you focused on the guitar that was permanently etched into his skin. The hand that was caressing his face moved to find a new home on his forearm, much to Shawn’s dismay. It was hard to ignore the calm that washed over the two of you as you traced the ink’s delicate outline over and over again.

“Plus, I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you admitted after a few minutes of silence. You kept your eyes trained on the permanent guitar, worried about how he was going to react. Shawn chuckled loudly and pulled away, leaving you embarrassed and frankly a little confused.

“Is that the best excuse you could up with? You don’t want to ruin our friendship?” The disbelief on his face was almost comical. “Come on, Hot Shot. You know I’d never let anything get in the way of us, even if us dating didn’t work out. Nothing could ever ‘jeopardize our friendship’.” He threw up a set of air quotes at the end of his proclamation. 

“How could you possibly know that?” you inquired as you felt a wave of uneasiness wash over you.

“It’s that sixth sense,” he stated and tapped the side of his head, as if referring back to your earlier conversation required complex critical thought. Funny how that hour between then and now could be made to feel like ten years. In that moment you swore you saw his eyes light up, like a lightbulb had ignited within his brain. “Tell you what, name your price. Tell me what it is I have to do to get you to finally go out with me.”

“Shawn, just drop it,” you said, suddenly regretting ever coming out tonight.

“No, nope, you don’t get to try and drop me with that lame excuse. Not when I know you’ve wanted this just as much as I have,” he replied.

“No, really Shawn, it’s okay. I really would just like to go home,” you insisted and began to reach for your purse so you can pay for your damn drinks and get the hell out of there. Rummaging around in your bag thankfully provided a welcome distraction. You managed to prolong the action for several minutes before a warm touch at your elbow made you sigh in defeat.

“I’m waiting,” Shawn stated, tone impatient. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, you realized when you heard him tapping his foot in those stupid boots he loved so much.

“Fine,” you said and desperately searched around the bar for anything that would get him to drop the subject. Your eyes landed on Dan, a regular you had known almost as long as Shawn. You smirked when an idea popped into your head and named your price, “I’ll go out with you if you challenge Dan over there to an arm wrestling match. Only if you win, of course.”

You were sure he’d find the idea ridiculous, brush you off and forget you even asked. Too bad you had forgotten that this was Shawn, and he’d do anything to get what he wanted.

“Okay, consider it done,” he stated confidently as he began to make his way out onto the floor once again. An adorable look of determination adorned his face when he approached Dan.

“Wh- Shawn I wasn’t being serious!” you shouted, scrambling to follow after him.

“Nope. I’m gonna do it,” he retorted, the ever-growing smirk on his face apparent.

“Shawn, this is ridiculous! You have to see that I was joking,” you protested. It was no use. He was determined to make this happen.

Shawn continued to ignore you for the duration of the short journey to where Dan was conversing with his pals. He sauntered up to the table, arms folded, clearly meaning business. Dan’s friends looked up at Shawn, confusion written all over their faces. Dan looked over his shoulder to determine the cause of their confusion only to find the bartender donning a serious look on his face.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here, Shawny Boy?” Dan questioned, clearly finding the situation comical.

“Hot Shot over here says she’ll let me take her to dinner,” Shawn explained. You saw the triumphant expression beginning to form on Dan’s face. It was no secret that he was rooting for the two of you since day one. Shawn continued, “But only if I can win in an arm wrestling match against you.”

Dan snorted and pretended to think it over in his head before he replied, “Alright, boy, I’ll arm wrestle ya. I’m not gonna go easy on ya though, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Of course, Dan. You know damn well I can’t properly win the lady’s heart if you just let me win,” Shawn stated in disbelief. He threw his hand over his heart, taking grave offense to the fact that Dan would even think of such a thing.

“Well then it looks like we got ourselves a regular old challenge!” Dan shouted for the rest of the bar’s occupants to hear. It wasn’t long before excited chattering filled the room and Dan’s buddies stood up to clear off the nearest unoccupied table.

You bit your lip and shifted nervously as you watched the two men take their places opposite each other. You couldn’t even bring yourself to shamelessly enjoy the flexing of Shawn’s arm muscles as he clasped onto Dan’s hand, aligning their elbows and getting into position. You should’ve just gone home, you thought. Passing out alone in your own bed surely wouldn’t have caused such a scene.

In that moment, as the two men prepared to wrestle, you decided to give it up. You realized Shawn would do anything for you, no matter how ridiculous the request. His tenacity and willingness to do the most absurd things finally donned on you. You determined that you needed to get over your misguided fear of losing his friendship right then and there. You knew he would always want you. He’d always find a way to have you, in any way, shape, or form.

You barely heard the crowd counting down the beginning of the match over the ringing in your ears brought on by your long overdue realization. You tried to pinpoint the exact moment when you had stopped denying it. Perhaps it was somewhere between leaving your barstool and arriving at Dan’s table, or maybe it was the second you sat down at the bar for the first time tonight. Regardless, you just wished you had caused less of a spectacle over it.

You watched as Shawn’s face twisted in concentration, biceps flexing even more than you thought possible with exertion. He was trying his hardest to win this, to win you. You didn’t know whether to burst into tears or a fit of laughter. You opted for neither and attempted to mask your regret at causing the whole ordeal.

The patrons didn’t mind though, and their excited chattering grew louder and louder any time either of the men came close to finishing it all. It came as no surprise when Shawn finally pressed Dan’s arm down onto the table, winning the makeshift match. As soon as he knew the win was in the bag, he sprang from his seat and took off around the bar on a mini victory lap, thrusting his fist in the air and high fiving anyone in sight. His happiness was infectious.

The crowd reformed to gather around the two of you as Shawn made his way over to where you were standing. You heard people shushing others as they watched the events unfolding in front of them.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” you remarked. Shawn took an exaggerated bow, goofy grin in place. He looked into your eyes as he moved in closer, cupping the back of your head with his large hand. You knew what was coming. You could feel it in your bones. And this time, you were finally ready.

“Yeah well, you know I can do just about anything with the right motivation,” he murmured. He stood there marveling at you, hesitation to make the next move evident. You were confused at his sudden uneasiness.

You hastily decided to take matters into your own hands and yanked on the front of his tank top, closing the remaining distance between the two of you. You almost cried in happiness when your lips finally met his.

Shawn pulled you in closer, if that was even possible. You felt him smiling into the kiss when you wrapped your arms around his neck. This was home, you were sure of it. Nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

“Well it was about damn time,” Dan remarked. He had to shout to be heard over everyone else’s loud cheering.

Shawn pressed one last gentle kiss against your lips before responding, “Don’t have to tell me twice, Dan.” He turned his attention towards you and spoke, “So is that a yes? Will you finally go out with me?” You playfully smacked his shoulder and he laughed. It was music to your ears.

“Yes, Shawn, I will go out with you,” you beamed as you said it, threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s been a long time coming, but yes, of course I will.”

Shawn smiled the smile that he only ever reserved for you, and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You fit together perfectly, like the two of you were solely meant for each other. You pressed your forehead to his and closed your eyes one final time.

As you stood there, enclosed in Shawn’s embrace, surrounded by people who wanted the best for you, you couldn’t help but wonder what the hell you had just gotten yourself into. The funny thing was that the more you pondered, the less you cared. You had taken that leap of faith, reached out and took what was dangling right in front of you. You’d finally gotten all you’d ever wanted.

[i-see-you-mendes]

Take Care of Me

SEQUEL TO In Your Hands

A/N: After staring at this for like three days straight, scrapping, restarting, and pulling my hair out trying to figure out how to fix it, I’ve realized it can’t be done. This one is unfixable. However, I never intended for there to be a part two so I’m not being too hard on myself. For everyone that asked, here it is:

You came down off the high of the kiss slowly, mind still fuzzy, as you gathered the chunks of glass on the kitchen floor. Shawn had walked out an hour ago and you assumed he went for a drive. You just wanted to clean the mess up and go, like maybe if neither you or it were here when he got back he’d agree to pretend it never happened. 

You sigh, sitting back on your knees to take a break. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You had worked it all out in your head before you came to Toronto, had come to terms with the fact that you would never mean anything to him, not truly, and had moved on the best you could. Took all those emotions and stuffed them in a box, then buried that box somewhere deep inside. It wasn’t that hard, you had been doing it your whole life really- building up walls, swallowing your feelings, pushing people away whenever they got close enough to call you out on your bullshit.

You try to process everything, try to remind yourself that this was Shawn you were dealing with. Shawn who, realistically, could in no way match the feelings you had been harboring for him. Shawn whose heart was always in the right place, but didn’t understand the Pandora’s Box of self-doubt and uncertainty he had just opened. Shawn who couldn’t love you like you needed him to, even if he tried. Shawn who, by the time he got back from wherever he went to clear his head, will have realized his mistake: 

He didn’t want you, he wanted somebody.

It was fine, you didn’t blame him, you were used to it. After all, who would ever choose you? You, with your warped view of believing. You, with all your fears and demons in tow. He wanted somebody, but that somebody couldn’t be you. You wouldn’t let it be, wouldn’t let him waste his time on you.

You stand up, taking the shards you had gathered with you, and dump them in the trash can. You had already cleaned the oven the best you could and should have been done with the floor by now, but every time you thought you were finished you’d spot more. It was like the universe was trying to make you stay, like you weren’t allowed to leave just yet. 

You’re still standing with your back to the door when it swings open. You grip the granite counter-top, squeezing your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what was about to come. You could already hear the ‘I’m sorry, that was stupid of me, I didn’t mean it. Please don’t think anything of it, just forget it ever happened. It was a mistake’ apology ringing in your ears.

“Listen I-” he begins, making his way to you.

 He stops and starts again. “I think we should…we should probably,” He sighs frustrated, and you hold your breath. 

“Goddamn it will you turn around and look at me!?” he shouts slamming his fists onto the breakfast bar behind you.

You jump at the sudden outburst, spinning around to face him. His face is drained of color and his hair’s a mess, probably from tugging at it as he drove. His shoulders slump, defeated and despite everything that’s just happened, all the sense you just made of this, you still have to remind yourself not to run to him.

You shake your head slowly, a warning. You don’t need him to explain himself. You understand. You would have made the same decision. He opens his mouth anyway.

“You- you’re…”

You’re not what I want.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?” you blink up at him. 

“You’re uh, hand. It’s bleeding,” he sputters out, walking closer. 

You panic, looking around wildly, noticing the splatters of blood all over the tiled floor, some smeared on the cabinets. You’re not exactly sure when it happened but, somewhere along the lines of your frazzled attempt to clean up the mess he had made of both you and the kitchen, you had managed to cut your palm. 

You were so wrapped up in the thought of him you didn’t even notice how badly you hurt yourself. What a fucking metaphor. 

He picks up your wrist gently, examining the gash running across your palm. “Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s go fix this.”

“No!” you yelp snatching your hand back from his. 

The thought of him leading you back down the hall and into the bathroom made you anxious. That place was a war-zone, more dangerous than the glass ridden kitchen would ever be. “I’ll, I’ll handle it.” 

“Let me help you, you can’t do it all by yourself.” 

He was insisting, not offering, and you knew it but that didn’t mean you were going to give in.

“I can do it,” you protest. “I can do it by myself, I don’t need your help. I don’t need you,” you heave, trying to convince yourself that it’s true. Maybe if you say it loud enough you’ll believe it. 

Your words set him off, the frustration from earlier rushing back. His posture straightens, eyes flashing with anger as his grip on you tightens.

 “Listen you can leave if you want, you don’t ever have to come back, but first you’re gonna stop being ridiculous and let me put a fucking band-aid on your hand.” 

You whimper in compliance, sucking in your bottom lip and nodding. 

He exhales, relaxing only slightly. His hold on your wrist loosens, but his jaw is still set. He ushers you forward impatiently, and you hold your left hand out, trying to catch the blood that’s dripping from the right. He looks down and snorts at your attempt to minimize the damage, like so much hasn’t been done already.

“Sit,” he says as he pushes you in the door. 

You crumple onto the rug in front of the bathtub and sniffle. He rummages through the cabinet, pulling out things and flinging them towards you as he goes. When he turns back around and sees you folded on the floor, fighting to keep yourself from falling apart, everything changes. His face softens as he seats himself across from you. You let him pull your arm into his lap, staring down at the way his hand cradles your own. 

“I’m not angry at you,” he reasons. “I’m just, I,” he presses a cloth to your injury and you hiss. 

Flinching, you pull away and shut your eyes.

 “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he pleads, and you know he’s not just talking about the pain in your hand.

You take a moment, reorganizing your thoughts, forcing them back into that little box that Shawn kept untying, kept dragging to the surface, before you make yourself  look at him.

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me,” you tell him, voice full of gravel. 

He reaches for your hand again and you’re too tired to object. “You take care of me, I take care of you. That’s how it works,” he grunts, wiping away the excess blood. 

“Yeah, but I’m not talking about your shoulder,” you mumble coldly. 

His eyes lock on yours, all liquid passion and heat, before answering, “Neither am I, and you know it.”

 He holds your stare waiting for you to challenge him, but instead you lick your lips and dip your head in response. 

He nods a few times back at you like he’s making sure of something, then he leans further in, back to fussing at your cut again. His curls fall down onto his forehead and he sinks his teeth into his lower lip, worrying at it every once in a while. His touch is gentle and you wonder for a second if you’re wrong, because in that moment it’s almost as if nothing else exists for him except you- You and his need to fix every broken piece of you that he could reach, and so just for a little while you give in, you let him try. 

“You didn’t have to clean up,” he tells you as he stands to throw the blood soaked tissues in the garbage. 

You watch his back as he moves, washing up and putting things away. 

You flick your vision down towards your neon color band-aid (your favorite color, he had pointed out) and you have to admit it made more sense now, how he thought for a second he was in love with you, how the closeness was intoxicating.

 As you had looked at him hunched over, murmuring to you sweetly just moments ago, you felt it too. There was only one difference. For you it was real, was the future you could never have staring you in the face, for him it was only an illusion.  

“Please say something,” he clears his throat, shifting from foot to foot. 

You scramble up, hadn’t even realized he was taking to you, and blink away the thoughts of forever that were clouding your mind. 

He rakes his hands through his hair and grins at you sheepishly. “I know you,” he says. “And I know that you’re shy and that you like to take things slow, and that it takes you a while to trust people, but you kissed back and I know that you wouldn’t have done that if… if. Why are you looking at me like that?”

You take a step forward, pushing your fingers through his thick curls. “I’m sorry,” you manage to choke out sorely. 

He places his big hands on your hips, holding you there, like if he just didn’t let you go then leaving would never be an option. 

“For what?” he whispers back, afraid of your response. 

“For letting it get this far,” you admit, voice laced with  a mixture of desperation and defeat. 

“That’s your answer then.” 

He hesitates, hoping he’s wrong, fingers digging into your skin. 

You shake you’re head because as simple as it would be to lie to him, as much as it would make everything hurt a lot less, you can’t.

 “No.” 

“Really,” he laughs flatly, “because that sure as hell sounds like one to me.” 

You slip your hands to his shoulders and look into his eyes, fighting to make him realize all the things you couldn’t get yourself to say out loud. “I want this,” you promise. 

He lets his head fall onto your shoulder because he can hear the ‘but’ coming, recognized it in the way your voice cracked in all the wrong places. 

“I really, really want this,” you reiterate, ignoring his lips moving against your collar bone, “but we just can’t have it.” 

He freezes, letting out a shaky breath, and his hands slip from their place on your side. You duck out from his grasp, turning your face away so you don’t have to see him crumble, remind yourself that you’re doing him a favor and move out to the living-room to gather your things. Shawn deserved the world, or at least a girl that could give it to him. If leaving was what you had to do to make him see that, then so be it.

He follows you at a distance, you can feel his eyes on you as you pack your laptop and folders back into your bag hastily. You survey everything slowly, looking around the apartment, taking it all in, tying to commit it to memory. This place was your happiness, your “almost home”, at least for a little while. 

You’re almost to the door, officially a wreck, emotions frayed, dragging your backpack behind you, when something stops you.

A voice. His voice. 

And for the first time tonight he’s not antsy, or angry, or anguished. He’s just Shawn, your Shawn.

The accusation bounces off the walls and you know you have to turn back around, know he deserves an answer. After all, it was his turn to question you, and his choice was simple enough. 

“Why?”